


doesn't always turn out the way you plan

by Ljparis



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mistaken Identity, While You Were Sleeping AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis
Summary: Penelope hurried over to the reception desk. "Hi, hello, hi, I'm looking for a man who was only just brought in, or maybe he isn't here yet, from the tube, he was almost hit by a train?""Are you family?" the woman asked, but Penelope got distracted by a flurry of activity as the doors opened and a paramedic team rushed him in."Him, that's him," Penelope said."Are you family?" the nurse asked again. "I'm afraid I can't give you any information if you're not family."
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 30
Kudos: 239
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	doesn't always turn out the way you plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqualined (inabstract)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabstract/gifts).



> I watched "While You Were Sleeping" for the first time in ages to prepare for this, and yet this is still only very, very loosely based on that. I hope you enjoy this modern-day AU. I had such fun writing it.
> 
> Special thanks to my incredible beta, SelfRescuingPrincess, for her last-minute help so I could get this finished.
> 
> \--

Penelope Featherington was on deadline. She had less than an hour to get this week's column to her editor and it wasn't even written yet. It wasn't even conceived yet, which was the real problem. It was unusual for her not to have a few stories outlined, but this past week had been abnormally busy as her mother and sisters had descended on the city and took up residence in Penelope's much too tiny one bedroom flat. In the span of a few hours, it was as if they'd been there the whole time. Penelope always slept on an air mattress stuffed into the corner of the living room and always had to cut her bathroom time in half and always had to give up her laptop to her sister Prudence so she could snag the last pair of limited edition Uggs before they sold out. Luckily, she had to endure their visit for only a week, and then they would be gone again.

All of this to say, that's why Penelope's column was a blank screen and she was already twenty minutes late to the office as she stood on the platform at the Notting Hill tube station waiting for a delayed train. She piled in with everyone else when it finally arrived, earbuds pressed in and Lizzo turned up high, anything to turn her mood around and get her focus back on what she needed to do - get her editor 500 words (at the very least) by eleven a.m. Not a minute later. And it was already past nine.

When she alighted sometime later at her stop, she had only half an hour until her deadline, and she realized she had two choices: one, to rush up to her office and cull together something that would likely get marked up and rejected or, two, give up now, stop for a venti mocha at the Starbucks across the street from the office, then make excuses to her editor about why her column, which she had submitted faithfully and on time for the past five years, was late and likely not even happening today at all.

She chose to go for the coffee.

"Nothing good is going to get written in the next twenty minutes anyway, and it wouldn't do to embarrass yourself," she muttered as she turned on her heel and made for the corner crosswalk towards the coffee shop. Her phone pinged while she waited, and she looked down to see a half dozen messages come in from her editor in quick succession. Penelope thought about not responding, not even reading the messages, but that just wasn't like her at all. She groaned inwardly and thumbed through them. Someone behind her jostled her forward. She stumbled, lost her grip on her mobile, which fell to the ground with a sharp crack, and she likely would have fallen straight out into the oncoming traffic herself it if wasn't for the strong arm that curled around her middle and hauled her back up onto the curb.

Penelope embarrassed herself by the sound she made when it happened. She flailed and elbowed whoever it was who grabbed her. Unintentional, of course, because why would she want to injure her rescuer? 

"Careful there," came a deep voice as a large body steadied her from behind. The crosswalk changed and the crowd around them began to move forward.

Somehow, Penelope managed to turn around. "Thank you," she said in a short breath. She looked up - and up some more - until she said his face. "Oh good lord," came out of her mouth.

The man was ridiculously handsome. In a very familiar way, like maybe he looked like a film star (or actually was one) or like she'd seen him in passing several times before.

"Are you quite all right?"

Her tongue felt like it took up too much space in her mouth. There was a reason she was much better at writing than at speaking, and this was it precisely. The words stuck in her throat. Instead, she only nodded. 

He nodded too, firmly. "I'm afraid your mobile might be a lost cause," he said, bending down to scoop it up off the ground and handing it to her. He smiled, a wry, sideways smile that made Penelope's stomach flutter. "Pardon me." Then he was moving away, leaving Penelope feeling unbalanced. She realized the entire interaction had barely covered a minute and yet clearly affected her more than it had affected him.

"Right," Penelope said. She couldn't spot him anymore, since he'd been swallowed up by the morning commuter traffic. She looked down at her phone. The screen had shattered, but she could still make out the time and the new messages from her editors. With the side of her thumb, she brushed any glass shards off. "Well, fuck," she mutted. Her coffee would have to wait. A new phone would, too. She turned away from the street and head back toward her office.

The rest of the morning was spent alternating between thinking about the man on the street and mashing together one of the worst pieces she had ever written. But at least it made word count and, after a few more rounds of edits than usual, was approved.

\--

Penelope started to see the man who kept her from falling ass over tea kettle into the street everywhere. Not in the "was that him?" or a glance out of the corner of her eye that she convinced herself _might_ have been him. But, actually, truly seeing him everywhere.

In line at Starbucks, giving up his seat for someone on the tube, crossing the street opposite her, getting into an Uber in front of her office. She still didn't know his name but she imagined marrying him in a small but elegant affair where her mother and sisters actually behaved for once and Penelope chose her own dress.

Three months later, to the day, Penelope learned his name, but it didn't happen in the romantic "let's spend our lives together" way. Still, it would make a good story, one day, maybe to her children or grandchildren.

It was late when Penelope left the office, and the station platform was nearly empty as she waited for her train home, except for herself, a few teenagers huddled around their phones, and the man who Penelope fancied herself half in love with. She glanced at him, feeling her cheeks heat. He looked back at her, catching her eye, and smiled too. In recognition? Penelope felt heat pool in her stomach. She lifted a hand in a wave. He didn't wave back but his smile didn't fade as he looked down at his phone and away from her.

Penelope leaned back against the tiled wall and closed her eyes. Only for a moment. Long enough that when she opened them again, her future husband was walking down to the far end of the platform flanked on each side by big men in big coats. They appeared to be jostling him around, not letting him step out from between them. Before Penelope could decide for herself that the situation was unusual, the men were pushing and shoving and, despite behind larger than either of the other men, Future Husband got knocked to his knees and then right off the platform onto the tracks.

A scream leapt out of Penelope, and she ran forward immediately, shouting at the muggers, shouting for help, shouting for someone, anyone. She crouched at the edge of the platform. "Hey, hey, uh -" She coughed a little, shook her head. "Hey come on, get up. Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

But he didn't respond, didn't even more. "Oh, fuck -" Penelope had a few choices now, but she didn't know which to do. Where were the Tube workers? Station security? Had someone called 999 yet? "Oh, for god's sake -" 

Penelope pushed her bag off her shoulder, leaving it on the platform edge, before jumping down, right onto the live tracks next to him. "Okay, well, you're - fine, right? You're fine. You've got to be fine. Can you wake up? Come on - " She pulled at his shoulder, but he was like a sack of potatoes or something, just dead weight sprawled on the tracks.

It wouldn't have been a big deal and Penelope might have eventually figured out how to wake him up if not for the tone that sounded overhead, followed but the pleasant-sounding voice that said, "Train approaching. Please stand back from the platform's edge."

"Oh god, oh god, oh god - " Penelope looked up and saw a light, a headlight, growing bigger as the train pulled into the station. She grabbed his shoulder and, with all the strength she could muster, pull him against her, rolling them both off the tracks and away from the oncoming train.

\--

Penelope was still shaking as she paced in the emergency room waiting room. It was awful that she beat the ambulance to the hospital but her Uber driver took a shortcut down a one-way street. She hurried over to the reception desk. "Hi, hello, hi, I'm looking for a man who was only just brought in, or maybe he isn't here yet, from the tube, he was almost hit by a train?"

"Are you family?" the woman asked, but Penelope got distracted by a flurry of activity as the doors opened and a paramedic team rushed him in. 

"Him, that's him," Penelope said.

"Are you family?" the nurse asked again. "I'm afraid I can't give you any information if you're not family."

Penelope ignored her, walked forward like she was going to follow where they were taking him. An orderly stopped her. "You can't go back there," he said, manhandling her out of the way.

"But - " Penelope's protest hung out in the sterile air and she sighed, her body tight, her mind racing. She felt helpless. She didn't even know his _name_.

The hospital went still and quiet after midnight, and Penelope probably should have gone home hours ago, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not without even a tiny bit of information.

"Pardon me, miss?" 

A nurse touched her elbow and Penelope startled. "I'm sorry?"

"I can take you back to see him now, if you'd like."

"Oh, but I'm not - "

The nurse lifted a finger to her lips as though they were sharing a secret.

Penelope wore a relieved smile. "Thank you," she said. "You really don't have to do this."

"I can see how much you care about him," the nurse said.

Penelope's cheeks burned as she followed the nurse down the maze of hallways to the room where he laid. "He's in a coma," the nurse whispered. "But you should talk to him. He should know that you're here. It'll help. Go on then, dear."

She hesitated for a moment but shuffled into the room anyway. At a glance back over her shoulder, the nurse nodded encouragingly. Penelope stopped just beside his bed. He looked awful, with a purple-brown bruise along half of one side of her face, dried blood caked around fresh stitches over his left eye. He was unmoving, stiff like a corpse. She didn't have any experience at all with people in a coma, not even people in hospitals, and she had no idea what to do.

When she looked back over her shoulder, the nurse was gone. "So, uh, hello, hi," she said, dragging a chair close to the bed so that she could sit beside him. She wanted to touch him but stamped down that desire. She had no right. "So, I'm Penelope," she said, "and I'm very, very glad that you're alive."

He gave no response, not even a twitch in reaction.

"Right, well, I guess I'll just - sit here a while, if you don't mind." She shook her head at herself. Of course he didn't mind. He wasn't even awake. She set her bag down on the floor beside the chair and pulled her legs up onto the chair so she could tuck her face against her knees. "I really hope you wake up soon," she whispered.

\--

Penelope must have fallen asleep because she sat up with a start and it took a long moment for her to focus on where she was - the hospital, at the bedside of the man who she'd fancied from afar for months - and that a bubble of disjointed conversation was growing louder and louder out in the hallway. Before she could get up and leave, the conversation and all those involved came into the room, talking over each other until one person, a tall man who didn't look that different from the man in the hospital bed beside her, boomed, "Who are you?"

Penelope tried to smooth her hair out but her curls stuck out and tangled in some places from sleeping on her hand in a chair. "Uh, sorry, I -" There were a lot of them, all clearly his family, and all staring at her like she had three heads. "I was just leaving."

"What are you doing in here?" / "Who are you?" / "How do you know Benedict?"

She wasn't even really sure who was asking which question, they were coming at her so quickly. The tall man who spoke first, the pretty brunette gripping the hand of an also very handsome black man, the slender woman with hay-colored hair but a pleasant smile. She didn't know who to look at or who to answer first.

"I'm -"

"Penelope!" 

Someone knew her name? A moment later, a familiar face burst through the crowd staring at her and Penelope saw that it was Eloise Bridgerton, who had been her roommate at University, and whom she hadn't seen in at least three whole years. "Eloise! What -"

"Do you know who this is?" / "Why is she in Benedict's room?" / "How do you know her?"

Again, Penelope couldn't connect each question with the asker, and she felt a little lightheaded and overwhelmed by all of the attention on her.

"I'm - Eloise?"

Her friend pushed through looped her arm through Penelope's, standing her ground amid everyone who must - how had Penelope not recognized them all as Bridgertons? - be her family.

"You must be Benedict's girlfriend, right Penelope? Oh my god, how did I not make this connection before? He's been so squirrelly about her - er, you - but here you are, of course! How exciting!" 

Penelope wanted to object, to tell Eloise that there was some kind of mistake, that she was wrong, but the words stuck somewhere in the back of her throat before she could say them. Then the entire family was, suddenly, gathering her into hug after hug, accepting her, welcoming her. She couldn't argue or correct anyone. She didn't even know who to turn to first, so she just let herself be hugged and greeted.

"A girlfriend, how wonderful!" Finally, one other person emerged from the group, the slender blonde woman. "I can't believe Benedict hasn't introduced us yet. I'm Violet, his mother, and this ill-mannered brood is the rest of the family. Anthony and his wife Kate, Daphne and her husband Simon, you know Eloise, then these are Gregory and Hyacinth."

So many names and people to remember. Penelope's head spun and she sat again. "It's - very good to meet you all. I'm just - I'm afraid I'm not -"

But the nurse interrupted her when she walked in. "Oh, good, you're all here. The doctor will be in in a minute and will give you a full update. If it weren't for this woman here, he wouldn't be alive. She saved his life."

All eyes turned back on her. She felt her cheeks heat, and she wanted to look away. She did, but only over to Benedict. If she looked at him, maybe everyone else in the room would fade away.

Violet spoke up, delight in her tone. "His girlfriend and his guardian angel! Oh, welcome to the family, Penelope, dear."

\--

When Eloise showed up at Penelope's flat the next day, she was prepared for it. "Why did you tell your entire family that I'm dating Benedict?" she asked, ushering her in. She let Eloise make herself at home, which she did easily no matter where she visited. She held up a mug for tea and Eloise nodded.

She sank onto the couch. "You could be dating Benedict," Eloise said, "so what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?" Penelope's voice moved dangerously into the screeching terrority. "El, I'm not dating him. And he's in a coma. And you can't just tell your family something like that. I didn't even know he was your brother."

Eloise gaped at her. "How could you not?"

Penelope filled the kettle to keep herself busy, shoulders tight. "Well, it's obvious when you're all standing there together like that, but I didn't even know his name."

"But you saved his life?" Eloise arched an eyebrow, a habit she had that Penelope had hated since they met. 

"Well, yeah, of - course I did."

"Not everyone would have," Eloise said.

Penelope tried to fight the blush that she knew was about to take over her whole face. She didn't want to blush, didn't want to give Eloise any ammunition for either teasing or for keeping up this ridiculous deception. 

"Oh!" Eloise bounced on the couch. "Oh you have a crush. I know that look anywhere. Pen, this is perfect!"

She reached up into the cupboard over the sink for her tea tin, then started poking through it to see what she wanted to drink. She set aside an Earl Grey for them to share, hoping that it was still Eloise's preference. "It is absolutely not perfect. It doesn't matter if I have a crush or not. I'm not dating him and he doesn't even know who I am. We have to tell everyone the truth. That I'm just - just someone who - decided not to let him get run over by a train."

Eloise opened her mouth like she was going to say something seemed to change her mind, snapping her jaw shut. "Right, well - you know not everyone would have done what you did. Besides, my mother has been on Benny's case for _ages_ about getting himself a girlfriend, so what's the harm in pretending for a while. He might be so overwhelmed by you and you saving him that he doesn't let on that you aren't his girlfriend and then he'll fall in love with you and you can get married and we can officially be sisters!"

When the kettle started to whistle, Penelope filled the pot to let the tea begin to steep. "That's no way to start a relationship!"

"What? Of course it is. It's so romantic. Like a great romantic film. Woman saves man's life. Man wakes up from a coma and falls in love with his guardian angel. They marry, live happily ever after. Cue credits."

Penelope set the pot and cups on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch with Eloise, putting her face in her hands. "Don't," she said. "Don't joke about something like that."

Eloise got up onto her knees and pulled Penelope against her in a side-squeeze. "I'm not. I think it would be brilliant. Just - think about it, all right? This is a good thing. And honestly, I don't want to break my mum's heart right now. She's so worried about Benedict."

Penelope nodded. "I know. Just - we shouldn't keep this up. I don't want to be lying to your family."

"Just for now," Eloise said. Penelope looked at her and didn't like the look in her eye, the one she'd seen before, usually when Eloise had a self-proclaimed brilliantidea that usually went south and then exploded in everyone's face. This whole thing was likely to go in the same direction. "Just give it a few days and we'll see."

"Yeah," Penelope said. Arguing with Eloise was often pointless, and Penelope didn't have the energy for it. "Tea's ready," she said, nudging the pot toward Eloise. "Earl grey. I hope that's still your favorite."

Eloise grinned. "It is."

\--

The day Penelope met the last of Eloise's brothers, Colin, was otherwise unremarkable. 

She spent much of the next evening after work sitting by Benedict's bedside, with members of his family flitting in and out, which meant that she didn't have to be 'on' the entire time, just a lot of the time. She liked talking books with Hyacinth and her love of the West Ham United football club with Gregory. She talked about her (nonexistent) relationship with Benedict with his mother, who was very sweet but also very intimidating. Eloise stopped by with a fresh tea and gossip she overheard from some of the nurses, but she didn't stay very long.

Which left Penelope alone with Benedict when Colin arrived.

She sat, feet tucked up under herself, on the chair beside Benedict's bed, a book spread open in her lap. When she read, she got lost in the book, and this was no different. She didn't notice there was a new visitor until he was right in front of her and cleared his throat. "Uh, who are you and what are you doing in this room?" he asked.

Penelope startled and stuck her hand over the pages of the book. She looked up. "I'm - you're - hello, I'm Penelope," she said. He was a Bridgerton, she could tell right away. She was getting very good at picking them out of a crowd and thought now that it was outrageous that she hadn't recognized Benedict as one of Eloise's brothers in the first place. If she could just not lie to anyone else, maybe she would feel better. Hopefully he didn't prompt her to explain who she was to _Benedict_.

"Ah, the girlfriend," he said dryly. His gaze darted past her to his brother. "How's he doing?"

Penelope wanted to correct him, but she didn't. She also didn't agree that she was. "Much of the same, I'm afraid. The doctor said he's fine and will wake up in his own time." She hesitated. "You're Colin, I presume?"

"That's me," he said. He looked very tanned, with the same dark hair as Benedict had, which swept over his forehead, slightly on the long side. He might, Penelope thought, even be more attractive than Benedict. Or just maybe in different ways.

Penelope felt her cheeks go hot, and she looked down at her hand spread out against the page of her open book.

"You're not what I expected," he said a moment later.

She looked up. "Pardon me?"

"When Benedict talked about you," Colin continued, and Penelope's heartbeat sped up for a moment before she realized that Benedict couldn't possibly have been talking about her and that there was probably some other woman out there who really _was_ his girlfriend. "You're not who I pictured."

She sat up a little straighter. "Well, what's wrong with how I am?"

His dark eyes widened, and he shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. I'm not saying anything like that. You're just not really Benedict's usual type, is all."

"Ah," Penelope said. 

When he smiled, it shone. Penelope wanted to look away because it was affecting her in ways she didn't want to admit. "It's nice to meet you, Penelope. Benedict's lucky to have you."

She smiled back, but it didn't feel like she wanted to smile. "Thanks," she said. Penelope tried to remember what Eloise had told her about Colin. That was still an advantage she had, while she pretended to be Benedict's girlfriend, even if a lot of what she knew was three years old. "You're the travel writer, yes?" He looked at her, surprised, and nodded. "Where did you just fly in from?"

"Greece," he told her. "Have you ever been?"

Penelope shook her head. "I haven't been much of anywhere, to be honest."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "Really. Never had the time or the - money," Penelope winced a bit. Not many people liked talking about money. "I know it's fairly easy to just hop a train and go to Paris or Brussels or, oh I don't know, _Scotland_ , but it just hasn't been something I've done. I'd really love to go to Italy someday though. Paris, especially."

"Paris is great," Colin said. Of course he'd been there. He'd probably been everywhere by now. "But the Amalfi coast, in Italy, is my favorite place to visit in the entire world. There's a village called Gete, where _Cappella Rupestre_ is. Chapel in the Rock, is the translation. It's breathtaking."

Penelope hadn't heard of it before. "Cool," she said. She wished she could imagine what that felt like.

Colin shook his head. "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about myself. Tell me about you and my brother. How did you meet? How long have you been together?"

"Oh, I - you don't want to hear all about that. I'd much rather hear about Italy. Or Greece, since you were most recently there." At his obvious objection, she closed her book. "Please."

That was all it took for Colin to start talking, and Penelope thought his voice, combined with his descriptive words, made her feel like if she closed her eyes, she could be in all the places he talked about too, right alongside him.

\--

The more time Penelope spent with Colin, the more she realized that whatever she thought she felt for Benedict wasn't anything like what she could be feeling for someone else. For - Colin. 

Of course, she knew that. She might enjoy reading fanciful novels and crying over a rom-com now and again, but that didn't mean she lived a life full of unrealistic expectations. The fact that she fancied Benedict Bridgerton from afar was never meant to be anything but a fantasy. The fact that she happened to save his life shouldn't have ever come into play. It was one thing to fantasize about a future with a man she barely knew and another to see the possibilities right before her eyes.

Because there was Colin. Colin, who made her smile, made her laugh. Who she was spending all of her time with when she wasn't at work or by Benedict's bedside. 

He insisted on taking her home from the hospital each evening, even though he was staying with his mother and younger siblings on a completely different Underground line. He brought her takeaway curry three times when she had forgotten to bring her own lunch. He had even shown up at her office once with news that the doctor thought that some new vital signs activity inside of Benedict meant he might be waking up soon. 

The list of reasons why she liked Colin continued to grow with each moment she spent time with him. His eyes, a shade of green she'd never seen before. His wry sense of humor. His love of words. His passion for traveling. How devoted he was to his family. That when he talked to her, she felt like the only person left on Earth. She thought it was pretty obvious that she was starting to fall for him, and she had to put a stop to it. It wasn't just that she was supposed to be dating his brother; it was that she was _lying_ about dating his brother. 

Every time she thought she should bring it up, she choked on the truth and the moment slipped away.

For instance, she and Colin spent one Friday evening together at her flat, a paused movie on the telly in the background as they ate takeaway straight from the cartons. "Do you know what I remember about you, from Eloise's stories from university?" he asked in between bites of butter chicken.

She shook her head. "I can only imagine what lies she spread about me."

Colin laughed. "She told me that you once stole all your flatmates' bras and raised them up on the flagpole outside of the house in freezing rain."

Her face burned at the memory. "Oh my god, she didn't tell you that!"

"Do you deny it?" he challenged.

She covered her face with her hand and her carton of food. "I only did it because she dared me to. It was all Eloise's idea."

"Now that I don't find very hard to believe at all. It's completely in character for Eloise to have manufactured a prank such at that and then twisted your arm to get you to carry it out."

Like now, Penelope thought. Like this, like with pretending to be Benedict's girlfriend. This was it, this was the moment when she could come clean and tell Colin everything. "Yeah," she said quickly, before she could lose her nerve. She set her food aside and twisted to face him. "Colin, I -"

She stopped, because Colin was looking at her in a way that made her insides turn to mush. He looked at her like he wanted to say something or maybe like he wanted to kiss her. It was the second, because he started to lean in toward her and Penelope's eyes fluttered shut because oh my god this was really happening. 

But the kiss didn't come. She felt the couch shift and when she opened her eyes, Colin was pulling on his coat. "Sorry," he said, "sorry, I didn't mean - I need to go. I told mum I'd stop by the hospital on the way home so I need to go and do that. I'll - see you later, Penelope."

She sank back against the ratty cushions on her couch. "Yeah, of course. Thanks for dinner, Colin. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, but he didn't look at her, didn't look anywhere near her, as he left.

\--

Her editor cornered her shortly after she arrived at the office, three weeks after Benedict went into the hospital. "I've been thinking about this whole situation you're in," Agatha said as she looked at Penelope over the top of the half-wall that served as the only barrier between cubicles in the office. "And I think you need to write it out. It'll be a feature. We can put it in the Lifestyle section next month."

Penelope looked at her, fish-mouthed for a moment. She let her fingers spread out against the computer keyboard, just to give herself something to do. "Oh, I don't think so," she said, keeping her tone polite. "But thank you for the offer." The last thing she thought she could possibly do was write about her lies.

"It's not an offer, Penelope," Agatha said firmly. "It's an assignment. Five hundred words, due on my desk next Friday."

Penelope got to her feet on impulse. "I can't," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I - I can't do that to them. Benedict isn't even awake yet. I can't just - publicly reveal that I made the whole thing up." She knew it had been a mistake to ask Agatha for her advice on the whole thing. It wasn't that Agatha had any kind of malicious intent, in fact, Penelope rather thought Agatha considered her a protegee or something, and Penelope certainly looked up to her as someone to emulate. 

"You and I both know you aren't going to be able to keep up this charade forever." Agatha's tone lightened, and pity edged out. "If he wakes up, he'll tell everyone you were lying. And if he doesn't wake up, well, then you wouldn't have any reason to stay. You're young. They'd want you to live your life, not act a widow for a one-time fake boyfriend."

Penelope paled. Her throat felt dry. All she could think about was Colin, how he would react. "But I - can't," she said, failing to put words into her argument. She couldn't because she was falling in love with Colin, because Eloise was still one of her best friends, because the entire family had opened up their home and hearts to her. "I can't betray them like that."

Agatha slapped her hand against the top of the cubicle way. "One week, Penelope. I want that story in one week." Then she was gone, and Penelope sank back onto her chair and put her face in her hands. She didn't feel like she was going to cry - it had been many years since she cried at work - but she did feel completely defeated.

Because the truth was - the _truth was_ \- she couldn't do that to any of them.

If she wrote for the paper about this whole thing, if she put it out there in newsprint, that she'd rescued a man whose name she didn't know but who she had a crush on and then lied to his family about who she was only to discover that she was falling in love with his brother while he was in a coma, well ...

Colin would never forgive her for it.

\--

Her fingers flew over the cracked screen on her mobile. _I'm going to tell him_ , she wrote to Eloise. _I know you think it's a bad idea but I have to tell him. He has to hear it from me._

Eloise's reply came quickly after. _Need I remind you that he still hasn't forgiven me for the time I put a toad in his bed when we were in primary school?_ Then followed again by another message. _One of the things Colin is best at is holding grudges. Just be careful._

"I don't have a choice," Penelope muttered to herself. To Eloise, however, she typed out _I know, thanks, but this is something I know I have to do. I hope you'll still be my friend._ and sent it.

_BFFS 4EVER <3 <3_

At least that got Penelope to smile. She didn't think she'd be smiling for much longer, not once she told Colin the truth and everything that had happened over the last month split apart and she was back to being boring Penelope Featherington who wrote a more-than-decent newspaper column, whose mother was overbearing but thankfully lived many miles away, and who was single and not Benedict Bridgerton's girlfriend. All without ever having had a chance to be Colin Bridgerton's girlfriend, too.

Penelope wasn't surprised to find Colin at the hospital, sitting with Benedict who was - 

She stutter-stepped into the room, nearling stumbling over her own feet. Benedict was _awake_.

Colin looked at her when she walked in, the smile on his face at seeing her fading a little when he noticed she was staring at Benedict. "I was just about to call you," he said, getting up. He shoved his hands in his pockets and swayed a little toward her. "Benedict's awake."

"Yeah, I - can see that. Colin," Penelope said quickly, turning her attention fully to him. "I need to talk to you," she said urgently.

"Don't you want to talk to Benedict?" Colin looked between the two of them. "Here, let me give you some time alone together. I'll just go grab a coffee or something. Do you want anything? Tea? Benedict, how about you?"

"I'm fine," Benedict said, a little hoarsely, from the bed.

Penelope grabbed at Colin's arm. "No, I really need to talk to you, Colin, now -"

He shrugged her off and headed for the door, not looking back at either of them. "I'll be back later," he said. He closed the door behind him, leaving Penelope alone with Benedict, who blinked at her like he wasn't sure if he knew her or if he was just too out of of it figure it out.

"Um, hi," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," Benedict said. He pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Do I know you?"

She felt like she was going to be sick, and pressed her clenched fist against her stomach. "No, I, uh - I mean, yes, we've met before. You pulled me back from falling into oncoming traffic once," Penelope said. Benedict's brow furrowed like he was trying to place her in his memories of that, but he shook his head. Of course, she wasn't surprised. She often considered herself relatively unremarkable. "And I'm Eloise's friend. Er, we were roommates. At uni." It became apparent that the only thing she could do, and should do, is tell Benedict the truth. "Look," she continued on, quickly moving to his bedside. "Somehow, it - well, I suppose if I wanted to, I could blame Eloise for it, really - anyway, everyone in your family thinks that I'm your girlfriend."

"Are you?" he asked. "I can't - really remember."

Penelope shook her head. "No, no I'm not. I was just the girl who - "

"Saved your life," came a voice from the doorway. _Eloise._

Penelope spun around at the interruption and smiled in relief. "El, look who's awake."

Eloise's jaw was set. Her gaze flicked from Benedict to Penelope and back again. "She saved your life. Pulled you right off the tracks after you got mugged and hit your head. A train could have squashed you."

His eyes widened. He wiped his hand down his face and looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. It was a little unsettling, how his intense gaze could still affect her, even though she wanted Colin, now. Still, this was the way she had always wanted Benedict to look at her: in awe, grateful, wondering. "You did? Thank you, uh - what did you say your name was again?"

"Penelope," she whispered. "My name's Penelope."

"What's going on here?" Colin was back. He juggled several cups as he strode in. "Oh, Eloise, I didn't know you were here or else I would have brought you a drink too. Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Penelope said, loudly. "Yes, everything's fine. Eloise is here. She can keep Benedict company, can't she? Colin, I need to talk to you." She tried to tug on him again, but he stepped away and handed a cup over to Benedict then looked at Penelope with his cup and hers in his hands. "Please."

"Go, Colin, I imagine I'm quite capable of keeping Benny company until mum descends upon us. She's on her way, just so you know, so any important conversations ought to be taken care of now and nota half an hour from now."

Colin looked adorably confused. Penelope was exasperated. Eloise shrugged, amused. And Benedict - "It was nice to meet you, Penelope," he said as she and Colin finally exited and she led him very quickly to the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

"What did he mean, it was nice to meet you? Oh my god, does he have amnesia? They said that might happen, with brain injuries. I should go find his doctor."

"No," Penelope said firmly. "No, it's not that - Colin, look, I need to tell you something and I'm afraid you're going to be mad at me and honestly, you have every right to be. I've been lying. I mean, it's Eloise's fault, mostly, but I should have said something all the way back at the beginning. It's just, I was always jealous of the way Eloise talked about all of you, as a family. Because my mum and sisters are unbearable - you're lucky you've never met them - and your family is so _wonderful_." Why was it now, of all times, that the words just kept coming and coming and, like a broken faucet, Penelope couldn't turn them off? _Just get to the damn point_ , she told herself.

"Penelope?" Colin looked at her with such concern that she wanted to melt.

"Oh, Colin," she sighed. "I'm really sorry. I am, because I - because, see, the thing is, I'm in love with you."

For a brief moment, she saw mirrored on his face the way he felt about her. He loved her, too. She knew it as well as she knew her own name. But it disappeared in a moment, and Colin stepped away from her. "You're Benedict's girlfriend," he said. He sounded sad.

"No, that's what - "

"I'm not going to take you from him, no matter how much I -" His voice broke, just a little. " - want to."

"Colin," Penelope said again. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I'm not his girlfriend. Benedict's not my boyfriend. He never was. I - Eloise said that I was and everyone seemed so happy about it and I just never - "

His face went cold, his shoulders tense. "You lied? To all of us? To me?

"There was never a good time when I could say that I wasn't!" 

Colin shook his head. "What about any of the times we were together?" he asked, his voice rising, echoing in the empty stairwell. "You couldn't have just told me the truth? Saved me the pain of having to think about the fact that there was a small part of me that didn't want my own brother to wake up because I knew when he did that he was going to have you and I wasn't?"

"Colin -"

"Stop, Penelope, please. I need -" He leaned against the stairwell door, looked past her. "I need time, all right? Just let me -" Then he was gone, too, through the door, down the hallway, and away from her.

Her heart threatened to explode from her chest and she just stood there in the stairwell for a long time, heart racing and alone, until Eloise came and found her.

\--

Penelope hadn't seen or heard from Colin in over a week. She'd received a handful of texts from Eloise, but after telling her she didn't want to talk about it and then not responding to the replies, the texts stopped. She drafted the article her editor expected four times and scrapped each one because everyone likes a happy ending and this didn't have one. Agatha told her it didn't matter, but Penelope's heart screamed that it did.

She was running late to work, again, and nearly stumbled off the packed train at her stop. Someone reached out, hooking an arm around her waist, to steady her. "Careful there."

A shiver ran through her, and Penelope stilled. Even through her coat and clothes, she thought she could feel his touch. "Colin?" 

He pulled her out of the way of the mass of people exiting and entering the train car, and cupped her elbows in his hands. "Hi," he said, his smile brightening his face, his eyes meeting hers. "I thought I might find you here."

She laughed nervously. "Come through here every day, almost at the same time, too," she tried to joke.

"I know," he said, more serious than she was in the moment. If she gave weight to this moment without knowing what it was, then she'd never be able to go back to her life before. It was bad enough that she hadn't heard from him and didn't know what he wanted, but now he was here, in front of her.

Penelope stepped away. "I really need to watch my footing better," she continued, brushing herself off and fixing the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She looked at her feet, at the scuffs on the platform floor, on his smart brown Oxfords.

He said her name, and she looked up. Because what else could she possibly do.

"I love you too," Colin said. 

He looked at her expectantly, like he was waiting for her to say something too. _I love you too_ was on the tip of her tongue but it was all twisted up so all she could do was smile and throw her arms around him. Colin secured her tightly against him, chuckling. "Is that an 'I love you too?'" he asked.

Penelope nodded. "Yes," she said, the word finally bursting out of her. "Yes, yes, yes. I love you, too."

Penelope pressed her cheek against his shoulder and, just off to the side there, the rest of his family blinked into focus. His youngest sister, Hyacinth, stood with her fists firmly on her hips, like she might stamp her foot too. "Well come on, Colin, kiss her already!" 

"You heard her," Penelope whispered, tilting her face up toward him.

Colin's smile widened and then he kissed her, right there on the subway platform in front of his entire family.

"Ewww! Kissing's gross," came an exclamation, punctuated by fake gagging sounds from Gregory Bridgerton.

Penelope, with her lips still pressed up against Colin's, laughed. He did too. She was so happy, it was hard for her to find the words to describe it.

\--

While You Were Sleeping, by Penelope Featherington

My late father liked to tell me that life doesn't always turn out the way you plan. He said it often, usually when I wanted something I couldn't have or my day at school went awry or one of my sisters stole my favorite hair ribbons. For a long time, I connected it with the little things, the small injustices in the world, the way I might wake up one day ready to take on the world only to have a flat white spilled down the front of my new frock because the train lurched suddenly to a stop. I didn't think he meant the big things too.

I met my boyfriend in a hospital room while his brother was in a coma. I saved his life. His brother's life, not his, to be clear. I knew Benedict from afar. He once pulled me back when I almost stumbled off a curb because I was too busy texting. I saw him now and again after that without knowing his name. When he was mugged late one night on the platform at the London Bridge tube station, fell on the tracks, and hit his head, it was me who pulled him to safety this time.

Through a series of miscommunications and an old friend who enjoys mischief more than anything else in the world, Benedict's family thought that I was his girlfriend. Perhaps I was, if only in my very active fantasy life. But while Benedict is very nice to look at, and I've learned since, a wonderful conversationalist who enjoys painting watercolors in his spare time, I didn't know him much at all.  
However, in the month during which Benedict was in a coma, I did get to know his brother, Colin. 

You might know who Colin Bridgerton is if you've read one of his books. He's a famous travel writer, known for such appropriately titled memoirs as "An Englishman in Greece" and "An Englishman in Scotland." For all that the titles lack, his writing makes up for it. If Colin writes about a cave of religious relics and hidden churches on the Amalfi coast and you close your eyes after reading it, you'll think you were standing there with him. 

Until I met Colin, I'd never been anywhere. Never left this great island we call home. In fact, I'd never even traveled north far enough to reach Scotland. How is that possible, you might ask? I don't have a very good explanation except to say that I was (mostly) content to stay in London or travel as far west as Bristol, where I grew up. But to see the world through Colin's eyes, not just through his words but instead with him beside me. Holding my hand underneath the Eiffel Tower, splashing water at me in the Mediterranean, kissing me under the Northern Lights in Norway. I didn't really know how much I was lacking until Colin gave me the world. I'm so happy and in love with him in a way I never thought was possible, a way I never believed would happen for me.

Benedict asked me recently when it was that I fell in love with Colin, and I told him, "it was while you were sleeping."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated.


End file.
